30 Days of Olicity
by hellokhaleesi
Summary: A series of 30 one shots and drabbles based on a list of prompts, all based on our favourite heroes. Lots of fluffy, lots of smutty, lots of Olicity, and just a pinch of Thea being a cutie. Rated M for some smut, bad language and occasional violence; each one shot will have it's own warnings, don't worry.
1. Sleepy Girl

**Overworked after days chasing down a lead, Felicity passes out due to exhaustion, and Oliver takes care of her. (anonymous suggestion)**

She can feel her eyelids drooping, the same way they have been for days. The screen seems too bright, the keys too stiff to push and the mouse moves agonizingly slowly across the screen. However, she is tantalizingly close to cracking this lead, and whether it is pride or sheer stubbornness - something she is _sure_ she has picked up from her new boss - she won't allow herself to stop until she has done it.

Oliver glances at the head of blonde hair to his side, her ponytail bobbing up and down and side to side with every movement she makes. Her fingers move across the keyboard at an alarming speed, new windows popping up on the screen in front of her like fireworks. He wasn't lying when he said she was remarkable; maybe five years on an island, fighting to survive with a bow and arrow has dulled his knowledge of technology but he knows for sure he wouldn't be able to do what she does if he spent five years trapped in an IT department.

He goes back to prepping his equipment. In truth, he's moving things from one table to another, because he's already prepped his equipment. Probably ten times. But, Thea is upstairs with Roy being better at running his club than he is, and his mother is at home, continuing her new career as a politician and a liar. Diggle is… actually, he has no idea. He has a sneaking suspicion he was purposefully kept out of the loop so he didn't burst in on his plans.

A small noise of satisfaction from behind him causes him to snap around. "What? Has something happened?"

"That lead you gave me a couple of days ago?" she beamed, standing up from her chair. "I think I've got something…" Her voice trailed off a little, and she lurched forward, steadying herself on the table in front of her. Oliver instinctively jumped forward, carefully watching her to make sure she stayed upright.

"Felicity?"

"Sorry," she shook her head. "my… legs have gone dead. Too much time on that computer." she giggled nervously.

"Are you sure?" he asked, watching her eyes flutter open and closed. "You really don't look good."

"I'm fine." she smiled. "Anyway, that lead you gave me took me to this off-sure account, and, um… it's owned by…"

She hit the floor before she could form another word. Oliver felt his heart race, and ran to her. Quickly placing two fingers on her pulse, he found it was there, if a little weak. His eyes ran over her body, trying to find a bruise, a cut, a needle mark, anything that might explain why she had just collapsed.

Panic threatened to overwhelm him as he searched her desk. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except…

One quick glance in the bin under her desk and it suddenly dawned on him what had gone wrong. There is at least ten energy bar wrappers in her bin, as well as several disposable coffee cups. Thinking back, he realised she had been in the Foundry every time he had come down in the past three… no, four days. Letting out a relieved sigh, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a taxi.

~.~.~.~

He placed her gently down on his bed; even being carried upstairs hadn't caused her to stir. He took off her glasses and shoes, praying to God she wouldn't hit him for it later. Glancing at the clock - it was past eight - he sighed, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking off his own shoes. A flash of inspiration struck him, and he quickly scribbled a note and placed it on the bedside table next to her; waking up next to one's boss after passing out in the office is all too often grounds for a sexual harassment case and Isabel didn't need anymore fuel for that fire.

Settling down on the bed beside her, he realised just how tired she must have been. She'd certainly been working non-stop for at least four days, and he hadn't seen her eat or drink, or leave the Foundry at all. He'd talk to Diggle in the morning, and Felicity would certainly be getting stern talk.

He tried to tell himself that having Felicity not at 100% was detrimental and possibly damaging to his missions, but he knew he was lying to himself if he thought that was the only thing about this that bothered him. The sinking feeling in his stomach came from the idea that she was hurt, that she had hurt herself - however unintentionally - to help him. Maybe it was because she looked so innocent in her sleep; her hair splayed out on the pillow above her, eyes closed softly, chest rising up and down. He was struck with the overwhelming urge to hold her close to him, cradle her head on his shoulder and tell her sleeping form how sorry he truly was, but he held himself back. Mostly, because this would be weird enough for her, and waking up in such a position would possibly give her a heart attack.

Although, also because every time he entertained the idea, faces flooded his brain. Laurel's face, tear-stained and furious. Sara's face, too old for her and too scarred. McKenna's face, trying to look strong. Everything he touched turned to dirt.

Very gently, so he didn't wake her, he traced a single finger from her temple to her jaw. She didn't even twitch, but only let out a soft sigh that sounded dangerously like contentment. Her head turned in her sleep so that his palm came to cradle her cheek, and his entire body ached for her.

He let out a deep breath, withdrew his hand, and simply watched her. The way her eyelids would twitch, her lips would part softly, her fingers would clasp gently onto the fabric of his duvet. He eventually fell asleep to the sounds of her breathing.

~.~.~.~

She wasn't sure what woke her up, for the room she was in was completely silent, save for the birds outside and the rumble of breath beneath her.

She blinked. Trying not to move as much as possible, she scanned her surroundings, realising - despite her very hazy brain - that there was a sleeping Oliver Queen beneath her.

"Oh my God." she whispered. She looked at herself; fully clothed. His chest, not so much. Whatever had lead them to this had left them in a very confusing situation, with her head resting on top of his heart, her fingers skimming the broken scar tissue on his chest. Very slowly, she raised herself up, noticing she was in his bedroom. Or, what she assumed was his bedroom.

Frantically looking for her glasses, she found them on the bedside table, along with a note, written in his scrawling hand.

_No, we didn't sleep together. __**Calm down**__. If I'm not there, I'm making food. If I am there, but I'm asleep, wake me up. You need food. No arguing. Oliver._

Deciding she was in no position to go against his instructions, but promising herself she would hit him for going over the words _'calm down'_ twice to make them thicker, she poked him lightly. His eyes snapped open immediately, and found her just as quickly.

He sat up. "Have you been awake long?"

"About two minutes, maybe?"

"Good, stay here." he instructed.

He left her in his bed - _never say that out loud, ever_, she thought to herself - but was back in ten minutes, with a plate laden with food.

"I don't actually know what you like to eat, but it is technically still morning." he nodded at the clock, which showed it would stop being morning in about three minutes. "so I just might have cooked you everything." He placed the tray and plate on her lap, and he really wasn't exaggerating. It was piled with bacon, sausages, eggs, toast and a cup of coffee sat on the side. She beamed at him.

"Eat." he pointed at the plate sternly. "Don't ever do that again."

"What?"

"Work yourself so hard you pass out from exhaustion." she shook his head. "You scared the life out of me."

"Oliver…"

"No, you don't understand. I told you, I rely on you. You and Diggle… you ground me. You bring me back when everything goes wrong in a way that no one else can. I won't let you put yourself in danger like that, especially not in a way so easily fixed at with a good meal and an hour break!" He knew he was yelling, his voice getting steadily more and more angry, and he knew she didn't know what to do because she looked like a dear in headlights.

She bit her lip nervously, before making a split second decision and ignoring the voice in her head that told her she was an idiot. Placing the tray next to her, she got out of bed, very slowly, not trusting her legs to work properly. When she was stood, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stayed there.

Oliver didn't know what she was trying to do, all he knew was she was next to him, and the weight of her body was against his and all his worried seemed to dissipate with this singular act of kindness. His arms came around her waist almost instinctively, and he buried his face in her hair.

"Don't ever hurt yourself for me again." he whispered into her hair. When she released him, she kept her arms around him loosely, staring up at him as if she wanted to say something.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." he shook his head. "I shouldn't have let you…"

"You're not responsible for the well-being of everyone in the city…"

"I should be responsible for you, though." he deadpanned. She looked at him with wide-eyes, opening and closing her mouth. He sighed. "Eat your food."

She smiled at him, and he softly pressed his lips to her forehead. Taking a deep breath, he leaned his forehead on hers. "You've nothing to be sorry for, but please never scare me like that again."

Before the temptation of her kindness, softness and warmth got the better of him, he withdrew, and settled down on the bed next to where she slept, and she followed his lead. Putting the tray back on her lap, she began to eat. He smiled at the sight of her so carefree around him, before turning on the TV at the end of his bed, putting on some pointless show that meant nothing to him. She smiled back.

He was constantly at war with himself, who he was meant to be; a CEO, a son, a brother, a vigelante... but Oliver Queen hadn't felt so much like Oliver Queen as he did in that moment since before he could remember.


	2. Grave Conversations

**Confused about her feelings for Oliver, and with no one else to talk to, Felicity visits Tommy's grave, unaware Oliver is also on his way to visit his old friend.**

**AN: This one is my baby.**

"Hi, Tommy," she said awkwardly. "you might remember me, I'm Felicity."

She had, of course, spoken to graves before. She spoke to those of her grandparents regularly as a teenager, often divulging information to them that she never would have dared tell anyone who could truly hear her. She wasn't a believer in ghosts, or the afterlife. It was just speaking to something that _represented _someone was better than talking to thin air, and made her feel a little less insane.

The graveyard was empty, and it seemed like she was the only one visiting today. She was thankful; the last thing she needed was Laurel or (God forbid) Oliver turning up as she poured her heart out to the grave of a man who wouldn't be able to pick her out of a line up. She huffed out a sigh, placing her jacket on the damp grass in front of the gravestone, and settling herself down. She gently laid the flowers she brought with her by her side.

"You'll remember Oliver, obviously." she smiled. "You know, best friend, betrayal story, all that jazz. He says you died hating him, but I think he's probably wrong. Best friends never really hate each other, do they?" Tommy remained infuriatingly silent.

"Okay, well you should probably know that I came here to talk to you about Oliver." She paused, wondering how to continue. "It's weird, me being here. I should be on a forum, or something. But, I'm not exactly a people person; I say the wrong thing and I mess up and I stutter, panic and flail. I think maybe I have to learn to be a people person. And yes, I know, if I want to be a people person maybe I should speak to people who can actually hear me but I'm a hacker who works for a hooded vigilante so maybe doing things the conventional way just isn't for me."

Her glanced around, making sure she was truly alone, and that no one just heard her say that she was not only a hacker, but a hacker to someone wanted for obstruction of justice and murder. She really needed to get control of her mouth.

"So, here I am. Felicity Smoak, talking to a grave about feelings."

She took a deep breath, unjustified fear setting in. "I guess I could beat this around the bush some more, but I get the feeling you probably don't need the small talk. I think I'm falling in love with Oliver."

She waited, before scolding herself that there was obviously no dramatic instrumental music, no fireworks, and certainly no response. "I really do. And it's wrong, so so wrong. I can't be thinking about him like that if we're on a mission, it could cost someone their life. I certainly can't be like that with him while I remain his bloody assistant."

The wind howled behind her, tangling itself through some trees in what a more mystical human being might call Tommy's response, but Felicity knew that the wind was far too dull; if Tommy was going to truly make an effort to contact her from beyond the grave, something would probably be on fire. There was a storm brewing - a real one, not a metaphorical one - and the clear sky began to darken, the clouds moving in and out of streams of sunlight. The air grew thicker, damper.

"I don't even know why I'm here." she groaned. "Some divine understanding of what I should do? What's the point?" She stood up, quickly putting her coat back on before the sky opened and she was left, standing alone in a graveyard, soaking wet.

"Maybe I just need to get over myself."

"Maybe you need to get laid."

The new voice startled her out of her skin, and she let out a small yelp. She felt the blood rush from her face, her muscles tightened in blind fear and her mouth went dry as sand. Oliver walked over to her, completely calm and collected while she was on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump." he smiled, a little awkwardly. "And don't worry, I didn't hear what you were talking about, but you look stressed."

A breath she wasn't aware she was holding flew from her mouth, and the colour returned to her face. "It's fine, really."

"I hope I'm not prying, but why are you speaking to Tommy's grave?"

She paused. Truthfully, she had gone to Tommy because he knew Oliver better than anyone. She couldn't have gone to Diggle, because he was too close to both of them. Anyone she worked with was out of the question, because they'd figure out why she had her reservations from the get go and that is not the sort of thing she wanted to become common knowledge. Her mother would disapprove of her feelings for any son of a billionaire, never mind one with potential mental issues brought on by undiagnosed PTSD, and that wiped out everyone she knew. Tommy was unbiased, fun loving and most importantly, he cared about Oliver. No matter what he said.

"Just needed to talk… about, something." she stammered. It was a terrible lie, but given the things he had tried to get past her - honestly, a hangover cure in a syringe? - she felt she might get away with it on a technicality. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she panicked. "I mean, I needed to talk to someone about it, but not a real person. I'm really, bad… like, terrible at talking to people and I couldn't go to anyone about this but I can't just talk to myself so I came to a graveyard which I know sounds really creepy, and I'm sorry… this isn't the sort of thing I could go to my grandparent's graves about and honestly you just make Tommy sound like such a nice guy so it made sense to come here and I'm sorry, I'll stop talking now." She bit her tongue until she was sure she tasted blood, wincing at herself. Oliver looked shell-shocked, as well as slightly amused.

"You could always talk to me, Felicity." he said simply.

She laughed. "Not about this. It's about a guy." When he laughed, she grimaced. "Oh, my… I sound like a thirteen year old girl, I'm leaving. Bye, Oliver." She gave a small wave and promptly turned around and began half-walking, half-running away from him.

Oliver watched her go curiously, hair bobbing in her wake as the first drops of rain began to fall.

~.~.~.~

When Oliver returned to the Foundry, he found Diggle working out. He must have looked bemused, or thoughtful, because his friend asked him what happened the second he laid eyes on him. Oliver recounted the curious interaction with Felicity.

When he was done, Diggle just stared at him. "Right, so Felicity was at your best friend's grave - a man she didn't know - to talk about her feelings for a guy…"

"Yeah. Weird, huh?"

"...and she had a heart attack when she saw you, panicked and started rambling, then ran away."

"Yeah, like I said, weird."

Diggle stared at him incredulously. "How is it you can see an arrow come at you faster than a racehorse but you can't see this right in front of your face?"

Oliver's brow furrowed. "I have no idea…"

"It's you, Oliver!" Diggle huffed. "Felicity was talking to _your _best friend, she panicked when _you _came over, she won't talk to _you _about what she feels because Felicity is in love with _you_." With that, he pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on and started attacking the dummy again, without so much as a word. Oliver opened his mouth to retaliate, but said nothing. Put like that, it was… almost plausible. But this was Felicity, and she would never think of him like that.

~.~.~.~

Her apartment was small, cramped and very, very Felicity. The sofa was covered with mismatched cushions, flowers dotted every other surface and there were several laptops piled in one corner. When he left the Foundry that evening, he had no intention of turning up at her building, or seeking her out at all. Diggle's words had been reverberating around his brain like shockwaves from an earthquake all afternoon, and evening, and he had to get out of the increasingly claustrophobic basement of his old nightclub. He had donned his leathers, grabbed his bow and gone to the first rooftop he had found, running and jumping across the skyline of Starling City in an effort to make his body feel something other than the new, peculiar feeling it was being flooded with.

_Hope_.

He never would have predicted that his own feelings for Felicity lay dormant underneath layers of denial, instinct to separate himself from everyone and everything and a reluctance to mess with the chemistry she, Diggle and himself all shared as a team. But, when his partner forced him to acknowledge his feelings - however unconsciously - something inside Oliver stirred up in the most terrifying of ways.

He didn't linger on her fire escape, knowing exactly how it would look if she found him, so he knocked on the window.

She was sat, quite peacefully, with a cup of green tea and a chocolate muffin on her sofa. When she heard the knock, she nearly spilled the hot liquid all over herself.

"Oliver?"

He was sat awkwardly outside her window in his green leathers, hood up. She glared at him, suddenly feeling very exposed in her cotton shorts and tank top pyjamas. Scowling, she got up and let him in through the window.

"God forbid you use a phone, Oliver." she snapped. When he didn't say anything, she huffed. "What do you want?"

"I'm not actually sure."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, we can start with tea or coffee."

She nodded to the sofa, and he took a seat, slightly stunned, muttering he would like a coffee, and thanking her. He felt remarkably out of place in her home; it was colour and light and memories, and he was dark and didn't belong. He had far too many demons to have a place in her tiny apartment. Looking at the TV in front of him, he realised he interrupted a film, one he didn't recognise. The box for a DVD was on the table in front of the sofa.

The film was called 'Big Fish', and although he'd never seen it, it sounded fanciful, romantic and a little bit confusing. Oliver wondered how much like Felicity that was.

She set a coffee in front of him, blushing when she saw the case in his hands. "I like Tim Burton films, I always have." He shrugged, setting it down and thanked her for the coffee.

"So, why have did you turn up at my place at," She checked the time on her phone. "half past eleven at night?"

"I didn't mean to." he grimaced. "Sorry it's so late, but I didn't mean to end up here. Digg said something today, something that… well, it hasn't been bothering me, but it just made me think."

"Are you okay?"

He looked at her. There was nothing but true honest concern on her face, her eyes staring straight at him. He'd never noticed how blue they were from behind her glasses. He shook himself internally.

"I'm fine, but if I ask you something, can you promise to give me an honest answer? And know that if the answer is no, that this is all Digg's fault for saying it to begin with because honestly, it's been going through my mind all day. If the answer is no, I'll laugh, so will you, and then I'll go and we'll never have to talk about it again." He chuckled nervously, but it sounded strained and awkward.

She swallowed heavily. "And if the answer is yes?"

"I haven't got that far yet."

The corners of her mouth twitched as she suppressed a smirk, shaking her head. "Fine, shoot."

Licking his lip nervously, he waited until she set her cup down to ask. "Are you in love with me?"

She froze like a photograph. He didn't need her to say it then, because he recognised the look on her face as pure panic; it was the same pure fear that he had on his face when Laurel first hinted at moving in together, it's the kind of fear you feel when someone shoves your own feelings in your face and forces you to acknowledge them when you're trying your hardest not to.

He prayed he was right as a wide smile stretched across his face. He leant forward, stopping when their lips were inches apart to give her the room to back away if she wanted to. His eyes flickered down to meet her own, and they were staring back at him. She inclined her head infinitesimally, just so their lips brushed against each other, and he needed no further invitation. He pressed his mouth to hers, and she responded instantly.

Her hand found the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, while his wound themselves in her hair. Their mouths moved against each other quickly, as if making up for lost time. Oliver was delirious, lost in the way she tasted, the way she felt, the sounds she made when he dragged her bottom lip through his teeth. She was set on driving him insane, he was sure of it, as she softly traced her tongue across his lips.

His hand ghosted down her side to rest on her hip and drag her into his lap. She yelped in surprise, but quickly found her place against his body as she pushed her hips forward, drawing a growl from him. She giggled, but was quickly silenced when he kissed her firmly again, his hands spread across the sensitive skin of her ribcage.

She pulled away, her face losing all of its colour. "Tell me Digg isn't on the comms."

Oliver felt confusion turn to fear as he checked his ear, finding he hadn't put it in before he left. Shaking his head, he burst into laughter, and she leant forward, resting her head on his shoulder, laughing with him. She was panting slightly. Still chuckling, he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her to him, and she nuzzled the space inbetween his neck and his shoulder.

"In answer to your question, yes, probably." she muttered.


	3. Verdant

**Thea, having befriended Felicity after meeting her at QC, invites her to a Singles Night at the club, but the younger Queen has an agenda of her own; **_**"I've seen the way you look at her, Ollie." Thea sighed at her hopeless brother. **_

_**AN: If you want to see Thea's dress, it's at this link: post/73135542979/collections-that-are-raw-as-fuck-rami-kadi-s-s**_

"Hey, Felicity!"

Felicity looked up to see the ever impeccable form of Thea Queen. Even in a pair of dark jeans, hair still wet from her shower and heels dangling carelessly from her hands, Thea managed to pull off an air of excellence with minimal effort in a way Felicity couldn't perfect if she spent 6 hours a day in front of a mirror.

"Hey, Thea." she greeted warmly. "What did those heels do to you?"

She held the offending items up, sighing. "They're new, and they just do not want to be broken in."

Thea had taken to coming by the office; initially, it was to seek out her increasingly absent older brother. However, Felicity had quickly struck up an unlikely friendship with the girl. She was smarter than anyone gave her credit for, with a quick wit and a real character, rather than the fake, trust fund kid everyone assumed she was. When Oliver had been missing from his office, she sighed and sat on the corner of Felicity's desk, chatting more to herself than to her. Ever since then, Thea would come in maybe twice or three times a week, sometimes with coffee or lunch, and provide a welcome break from her duties as Oliver Queen's assistant.

"Your poor feet," she laughed. "remind me why you're buying more shoes?"

"You say that like I have enough." she deadpanned, but then giggled. Perching on her usual space on Felicity's desk, she waited until she finished typing. "So, do you have plans this Friday?"

"No, why?"

"Don't yell, but there's a Single's Night on at Verdant…"

Felicity groaned. "Thea…"

"Hear me out." she said, raising her hands in defence. "You don't have to bring anyone, or leave with anyone. Just hang with me, you need a night off anyway. Roy is busy, so he can't come, which means I'm on my own."

Thea gave her best puppy eyes, blinking adorably, and Felicity huffed. "Fine. But I'll need your help coming up with an outfit."

"Done." she said instantly, her eyes lighting up at the prospect. "What dress size are you?"

"Eight, why..?"

Thea paused for a second. "I have it!" When Felicity looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "The perfect dress. Oh, you are going to look hot." Thea got up without another word and dashed out of the office, a mischievous look in her eye, before turning on her heel and running back. She leaned over the desk and kissed Felicity on the cheek.

"Thank you!" she grinned, and left again.

The beautiful - if excitable - teenager was gone, like a hurricane sweeping through the building. _What am I getting myself into?_ Felicity thought.

~.~.~.~

"Ollie…" Thea whined.

"Speedy!" he grinned back, knowing how much her nickname bothered her.

"Please. Just, drop in for an hour. Do you know how many women will come to my club on a Single's Night if you're there?" She gave her best smile.

There was very little Thea Queen couldn't achieve when she truly wanted to. It was down to a smooth talking technique passed down to her by her brother, her stubborn and business-minded way of thinking courtesy of her father and a naturally dominant way of holding herself, thanks to her mother. She was smarter than she let on, more logical. She enjoyed planning and keeping things in check, which, when combined with her Queen nature, made her a master manipulator. In short, Thea was very good at getting her own way.

In truth, she knew Oliver would agree to almost anything if it a) made her happy and b) kept her safe. Accompanying her to a club full of men looking to get laid would surely fall under the latter.

"Fine," he huffed, but he was smiling as he said it. "but for an hour, no more."

She beamed. "Thank you! Who knows, might even get lucky." She winked.

Oliver shook his head. "Not my thing anymore, Thea."

She grinned. "Not yet." she said mysteriously, before floating off to her room. He was going to call after her, and demand to know what she was going on about, but he doubted he'd get a thing out of her. She was far too much Queen, in his opinion.

"What am I getting myself into?" he thought aloud to the empty room in which he now stood.

~.~.~.~

Friday came quickly. As per Thea's request (or, orders), Felicity was at the Queen Mansion two hours before they were due to leave for Verdant. She was slightly nervous, having never taken more than an hour to get ready for anything, although she did suppose there was two of them, so maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

Thea opened the door, looking ecstatic. She instantly pulled Felicity into a hug, looping her arm in hers and dragging her up to her room. She was rambling the whole way there, barely stopping to breathe, about how she had the perfect dress for Felicity and how she had been thinking about the perfect way to do her hair and how they were going to make every man in the room drop his jaw on the floor.

Thea's room was nothing how she expected it to be; the walls were a soft pink, illuminated by the wide open curtains that let in plentiful light. The walls were covered in photos, sketches, timetables, but everything looked very in place. It straddled the fence between being very clearly a teenager's room, and a business woman's room. There was fairy lights wrapped around the bed, the tops of the walls and the large mirror in the corner, every detail considered in a way that made it very feminine, but it was very sophisticated.

"Your room is beautiful."

"Thanks." Thea beamed. "Right, before anything, do you have any allergies?"

The question caught her off guard. "I'm sorry? Just nuts, but why?"

"Because I don't want to put anything on your skin or in your hair that will result in a trip to the ER." she laughed. "I've done some sketches, so just tell me if you like them while I dry my hair." Thea pointed at her bed, where several sheets of paper were.

She got to drying her still damp hair, while Felicity picked up the papers. Her eyes widened in shock; there were several very detailed, very beautiful sketches of what seemed to be here in a stunning dress. She was drawn from three different angles, any incredible amount of detail put into each one. The next page was a close up of her face, with not only intricate drawings of her make up - from eyeliner thickness to the colour of her blush - but detailed annotations. In all of the pictures, she had her hair down in soft, bohemian waves, cascading down her back.

"What do you think?"

Felicity stared at Thea. "I think you're wasted as a club owner."

She shrugged. "I get bored. When I'm not working, or with Roy, I like drawing."

"Have you ever considered doing this professionally?" she shook her head, annoyed anyone could be this good at something if it was only a hobby. "Fashion design, or styling, or anything?"

"Flattery gets you everywhere in this house." Thea laughed, dismissing her comments. "Is that all okay, though?"

"More than." she smiled, but made a mental promise to try and convince Thea to consider her options. The girl was made for more than clearing glasses and putting in drinks orders.

They had maybe ten minutes to finish getting ready. Thea had curled Felicity's hair into tight coils, then brushed it out and applied more hair spray than she knew a can could hold; the effect was stunning though, with her hair in beautiful natural looking waves that bounced and moved with her every turn. She applied a soft pink lipstick, then something over the top so her lips were like mother of pearl.

"I've missed this, you know." Thea said as she applied a layer of gold eye shadow to her.

"What do you mean?"

"Getting ready with a friend," she smiled. "going out to laugh, rather than to score." There was a loaded pause. "I never told anyone this, but I stopped seeing all my friends after my eighteenth, because it was them who gave me the vertigo. In truth, I've spoken to maybe one of them, twice since then."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Yeah," she said after a pause. "they nearly killed me, obviously they didn't mean it, but still… I don't want friends like that. I met Roy just after, and he's been a good friend to me. I guess between him and Ollie, I never wanted anyone else. So, thanks, I guess. For letting me be your friend."

Felicity felt her heart swell. "I'll be your friend whenever you want, Thea." She stopped applying the make-up to look at her, eyes glassed over with unshed tears at the sentiment. There was a moment of understanding before she resumed the magic she was working on Felicity's eyes. When she was done, the effect was dramatic; thick black eyeliner was hard to pull off, unless Thea is applying it. Her eyes were smoky, with a golden finish that made them pop.

"Right, all done." Thea announced, pulling her over to the full length mirror. Thea herself was in a stunning gold dress that skimmed her knees, with a cowl neckline, and had a layer of gold lace over the top that made her look almost ethereal. Her hair was up in a messy bun, soft tendrils coming down to frame her face. She had chosen one of the most beautiful dresses Felicity had ever seen for her to wear; it was nude, but a few shades darker than her own skin, with a tight layer of navy lace. It looked, in certain lights, as if she wore nothing but. Mixed with her hair and makeup, the effect was… well, Felicity reminded Thea that she could add to the Queen fortune substantially if she did this professionally.

She checked the time. "Oh, we're just on time." She slipped on her own golden platform heels, while pointing Felicity towards a pair of gunmetal grey ones, almost identical in style.

"Let's go." Thea winked.

~.~.~.~

Potential first class stylist or not, Thea was a highly skilled business woman. The DJ she had hired drew a big enough crowd on his own, but whatever she had done had filled Verdant to the brim.

Felicity had expected Thea to leave her to mingle while she made her rounds, but she kept their arms looped while she did, introducing her to everyone she met as "my friend, Felicity Smoak. She works with my brother.". Felicity felt like one more hand shake might actually cause her arm to fall off, but Thea announced that they were done with the introductions and that it was time for a drink.

"Two vodka and cokes."

Once they had their drinks, they chatted amicably while people watching. It dawned on Felicity that as uncomfortable as she was in Thea's world, Thea herself held more disdain for it than she ever could. She said she didn't like how there were so many expectations, and how people used money instead of words to talk to each other because it was the only language they knew. It was a terrifyingly insightful thing so an eighteen year to say when Felicity considered that her main achievement at that age was knowing her way around a motherboard by touch alone.

"Thea, what are you doing with my assistant?"

Oliver's voice caused them both to look up. "Apart from advising her on her hair and makeup in order to make her the hottest girl in Starling City? Other than that, talking about rich people and bonding over our shared love of Russian liquor."

"When you say 'advising', you mean you strapped her to a chair and did it yourself." It was a statement, not a question.

"Naturally."

"Terribly sorry about my little sister," Oliver said in mock politeness. "she's a nightmare."

"Speak for yourself, Mr Queen," Felicity countered. "I'm thinking about hiring her as my personal stylist. Back in a minute, bathroom." She left her drink on the bar, and dismissed herself.

When Felicity was out of earshot, Oliver turned on his sister. "What are you doing? You're doing something."

"I'm trying to get you to open your eyes," she laughed. "Felicity is beautiful, she's smart, she's funny, and she's… she's normal, Oliver. She's perfectly, absolutely, wonderfully normal. She's not tainted by this life like us." She paused for dramatic effect. "Oh, she might also be crazy about you."

"Thea…"

"Shut up," she said abruptly. "because whatever you're about to say won't meant a thing. Talk to her, as a person, not an assitant."

"You think I don't know those things?" she growled. "She could never be tainted like us, or by us."

"I've seen the way you look at her, Ollie." Thea sighed at her hopeless brother. "Untainted or not, you've got it bad, big brother."

She walked away, patting him on the back, and disappearing into the crowd on the dance floor just as Felicity returned.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah." he sighed. "You know what? We should get drunk."

She laughed. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know," he grinned. "you and me, let's just get drunk. We both need a night off, and if I'm honest, Thea did a good job. You look truly amazing. So, I declare this, as CEO of Queen Consolidated, Oliver and Felicity's Getting Totally Smashed Night."

She was staring at him like he was insane. And, maybe he was. He hadn't gotten completely wasted since before the island, so it was unlikely it would take much. He was in his sister's club, with his assistant and partner, and it was totally irresponsible. But, she looked like a goddess with hair down and curled like that, and when he had spied her talking to Thea, she had looked so carefree and happy. She was always so guarded around him, as was the nature of their relationship and their work. So, maybe he was insane, or maybe he just wanted the beautiful woman in front of him to have a good night, where she could drink, relax and dance, without worrying about being called away to help him save the day.

"You're mad." she said, shaking her head at him. "So, vodka shots?"

He grinned. "Oh, always a good way to start the night."

~.~.~.~

It was nearly midnight, and Felicity was… well, there was at least three Oliver's in front of her, and the sane part of her brain was telling her that might have been drunk.

He was laughing, tears in his eyes, at some story he was recounting about his childhood. She beamed at him; it was so rare to see him smile, genuinely smile. He was leaning one arm on the bar, top buttons of his shirt undone - his tie was… God alone knows - hair ruffled from the enthusiasm in which he was speaking. His arms were flailing wildly, and more than once she had to duck out of the way, not that he noticed.

If this night had taught her anything, it was that Oliver Queen was a bigger lightweight than her.

"I just remember Thea running around the house with all of my clothes and me following her, stark naked, and the look on my mother's face…" He dissolved into fits of laughter, while Felicity tried her hardest not to imagine what Oliver looked like fresh out of the shower and naked, running through the halls of his house.

He looked up at her. "Felicity, we should totally dance."

Even her drunken mind sent up warning bells at that; she glanced towards the dance floor, where tens of twenty-somethings were grinding on each other in close contact. But, the copious amounts of vodka she had drunk, combined with how hot the club was, combined with how hot Oliver was with his shirt half undone and a boyish grin on his face all but destroyed Felicity's inhibitions, and she took his hand with a smile and let him drag her to the dance floor.

"It's not like either of us will remember this tomorrow." she giggled to herself quietly, her words lost on her friend.

Every movement made her brush against somebody else, and had she been sober, even she would have given up apologising for it by now. But, she was drunk, and it was hot, and it was dark, and Oliver was pressed up against her with his hands on her hips, and a smile playing on his lips. One hand bunched in his shirt, the other fluttered up his body and wrapped around the back of his neck. She wasn't sure what they were doing could be classed as dancing; they were more swaying while entwined in each other.

Their faces were tantalizingly close, and when she angled her head upwards to look at him, her lips brushed past his. She initially froze, but the sturdy weight of him around her made her loosen up again, as he ducked his head and pressed a soft kiss to to her lips.

The kiss ignited something within her, and she instantly stopped swaying, pressing her body closer to his and leaning forward on the balls of her feet. His arms came around her, mouth opening, tongue tracing hers in a way that made her head spin more than the vodka shots. In that moment, neither of them cared who saw them, or was was there. There was no worries about remaining objective, or being sensible, because he tasted like rum and he felt like velvet in her mouth.

"Foundry?" he muttered against her lips. She nodded wildly, pressing one more kiss to him before allowing him to drag her off of the dance floor and down to the basement of the club.

How he managed to put in the code to open the door, she'll never know, and she didn't care either when they both got down the stairs and he lifted her up against him, picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. She kissed him soundly as they - clumsily - navigated around the tables and shelves to find the sofa. He sat down, still kissing her, with her in his lap. He knotted a hand in her hair and let the other one dance across her ribcage. It drew a gasp from her, and she latched her mouth on to his neck, trailing kisses from his jaw to his shoulder. When she bit him lightly, the arm he was bracing himself with on the sofa lost it's strength, and they both fell sideways.

Giggling, Felicity shook her head. "We are way to drunk to have sex."

"I know." he laughed, but gathered her up so she was straddling him, bodies still pressed to each other, kissing her again. She laughed into their kiss, and his head fell back onto one of the pillows. She ran her mouth up and down his neck, kissing and licking, until sleep took them both.

~.~.~.~

Diggle came into the Foundry, looking to get make a headstart on a lead he found last night. Oliver wasn't in, which was strange, but then he'd heard from Thea that he went to Verdant last night and put a serious dent in the rum, so maybe he was sleeping in.

The Foundry was also seriously missing a blonde presence; the computers weren't on, so Felicity hadn't even showed up yet. He wasn't concerned, more perturbed.

Shrugging, he hung his jacket on one of the hooks, and booted up the computers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two figures, lying prone on the sofa. His initial reaction was fear, but on closer inspection, he simply rolled his eyes and suppressed a bark of laughter.

Oliver, sound asleep, had wrapped his jacket around Felicity's shoulders as she snored softly on his chest. His partners were famously objective, and he could only imagine the amount of rum it took Felicity to loosen up enough to do this. Silently, he crept forward, and spied her shade of lipstick on his neck. Covering his mouth to silence his snickers, Diggle went to work, sneaking glances at the pair every so often.

Maybe they'd get over whatever it was that was holding them apart now, if they ever got over their hangovers.


	4. Disaster

**A fire/break-in/construction work leaves Felicity without a place to stay, and Oliver steps into help.**

**Warning: panic attacks (is this a legit warning? i dunno, i saw it once so i guess to be safe, right?) **

**AN: This is the last fully written one so updates might not be daily, I'm still studying for exams, but I'll try :) **

Felicity had never resented wearing so little to bed in her life.

She was sat on the stairs to her apartment, shivering with the cold, while firemen and paramedics ran riot around her. A small kitchen fire had spread in the apartment next to hers, and the flames were roaring across her entire floor. According to a paramedic, she was lucky; there had been minimal smoke inhalation, she had suffered only minor burns and her apartment had only been partially damaged.

She had grabbed her phone, a picture of her and her mother and then ran. She had been asleep when the fire started - images of sleeping people suffocating on smoke and carbon monoxide fumes invaded her brain every time she thought of it, making her panic and breathe a little deeper - but the noise, and frantic knocking on her door had woken her up. Her next door neighbour, an elderly woman called Jean, had made sure to wake her up before leaving, for which she was incredibly thankful. There was a couple of burns on her arms from where she had scraped past a metal doorknob on the way out, but other than that, she was unscathed.

The second she got the all clear from a paramedic, she sent a text to Oliver, asking him if he wouldn't mind picking her up and dropping her off at the Foundry. Knowing her partners, they were probably already on their way, considering their ears were constantly attached to the emergency service line.

She tucked her knees under her chin, wishing she had asked him to bring a blanket. Sleeping in a pair of shorts and a thin vest seemed like a great idea when her apartment was so warm, but now she was sat outside in the freezing cold, and she thought she might actually get hypothermia if Oliver didn't get her stat.

She clutched her photoframe closer to her, glad she saved it. From the sounds of it, it probably would have come out of the fire unharmed, but better safe than sorry. It was her favourite picture.

"Felicity?!"

Oliver's voice made her lift her head up, and she saw him searching for her frantically through the crowd, Diggle at his side. She stood up, muscles protesting from being frozen in place, and waved to them.

When he reached her, he cupped her face, angling it upwards to get a better look. "Felicity, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…"

"You didn't get burned?"

"Oliver, really…"

"You're not having any trouble breathing?"

"Oliver!" she yelled. "Not that I don't appreciate the concern, but I got out before it got too bad. I've got like one small burn on my arm, but I can barely feel it. Please, just tell me you have a blanket or something in that car."

He seemed to actually see her for the first time, rather than just firing random questions. His hands dropped from her face to her arms, and he smiled apologetically. He rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm her up, but withdrew when she winced as he put pressure on her burn.

Shrugging off his jacket, he wrapped it around her shoulders, and kept an arm around her as he walked her to the car. She was genuinely touched by his concern, the way he held the car door open for her, made sure Diggle turned on the heating when they were inside, and kept a hand on her bare thigh in a strange attempt to keep her warm, or offer comfort.

She was trying so hard to ignore the hand on her leg, so incredibly warm on her cold skin - she prayed to a God she didn't believe in he thought the goosebumps on her leg were from the weather, not his touch - that she didn't realise they were no where near the Glades, and had completely bypassed it, until they were in the driveway to the Queen Mansion.

"Um, why are…" she started but Oliver shook his head.

"Don't. You didn't actually think I'd let you stay at the Foundry, on the sofa?"

"I don't want to intrude…"

Diggle laughed. "Wow, you really don't know how big that house is, do you? You could live there for three weeks before anyone realised you were there."

She went to argue, but Oliver held up a hand to silence her. "Felicity, just stay here until you can find somewhere else, if that makes you more comfortable. But please, you're freezing. Come inside, let me make you a cup of tea, and we can figure something out in the morning."

Ten minutes later, Felicity was sat with her feet curled underneath her, wearing a pair of Thea's old pyjamas, a fleece blanket thrown over her shoulders, on the sofa in Oliver's living room. The younger Queen sibling had been oddly joyful about her arrival, claiming that if she needed any help getting over the latest disaster, that she had getting over tragedy down to a tee. Thea then thrust a pair of pyjamas, the blanket and a bar of chocolate into her hands, gave her a wink, and promised to make her a cup of tea "because Oliver can't do it to save his life".

Oliver had joined her on the sofa moments after her, because his sister had kicked him out of the kitchen. She took one look at his face and burst out laughing, wondering how a man who frequently takes on killers, manipulators and assassins could let himself to bossed around so easily be a nineteen year old girl. Although, in his defence, 'girl' was perhaps not the best way to describe Thea; 'force of nature' seemed much more accurate.

"Splash of milk, two and a half sugars." Thea said, putting the tea in front of Felicity.

"Two and a half?"

"Yeah, more than two to give that extra comfort factor, less than three so you don't feel guilty." she beamed. "I'd stay and save you from my broody brother, but I have to go over the accounts for Verdant again." She skipped away, muttering about 'idiot accountants' who 'don't do their jobs', and Felicity was left to wonder how Thea Queen ever managed to gain the reputation she did. She might have been long legs and designer shoes, but she was still a business woman. She took a sip of her tea. She was a business woman who knew how to make tea, as well.

"Warming up?" Oliver asked.

"Yeah," she nodded. "you know, this is all too much, I'm fine."

He glanced down, in something that looked curiously like nervousness. "The funny thing about shock is that you don't feel it until you let go. It's why people have panic attacks after the fact, why they don't feel pain until they're in the back of the ambulance." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I thought I was fine, when I came back. I saw the boat, I was on the boat, it was all fixed and better. Until, the night I went home, and there was a storm, and I woke up on the floor in a puddle of my own sweat with my arm against my mother's throat."

Felicity instinctively put her hand on his arm. "I got a small burn on my arm, in a fire that barely touched me. Don't compare to five years of torture, and fighting for your life."

"It doesn't matter," he shook his head vehemently. "because you feel fine now, but one night you will wake up to the sound of a car alarm, or you'll be too hot under the covers, and suddenly you won't be able to breathe or think and all you will want to do is curl up and pass out."

She opened her mouth, but closed it again. "Just know, that if you wake up tonight for whatever reason, I'll be in the room opposite. No matter what time it is, knock on my door and we'll fix this, okay?"

She stared at him, panic setting in, because she knew he was right. She understood the science behind shock and panic attacks, but hearing him say it gave it a gravity that it had previously lacked. She bit her lip nervously as his phone started to ring.

Without breaking eye contact with her, he picked it up. "What? Okay, thanks."

He gave a small smile. "I've been instructed by Thea to watch Love Actually with you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"She says it's funny and hopeful and it starts on channel 7 in three minutes, and that I have to watch it with you."

And thus, the most surreal night of her life started, with Oliver Queen, a cup of tea and a British rom-com.

~.~.~.~

She didn't know what woke her up. She didn't know why it woke her up. All Felicity knew, was that it was 03:12am, her chest was tight, her forehead damp and God, she needed Oliver.

"_I'll be in the room opposite… knock on my door and we'll fix this…"_

His words came to her with striking clarity, and she ripped the duvet off of her like it was made of battery acid. One hand on her chest, trying to steady her breathing, she kept her free hand on the wall to stop her legs from giving out.

Making it out of the door, her lungs aching as they struggled to take in the air they needed. She crossed the hall blindly, rapping on the door she found, praying it was the right one.

It took a matter of seconds for it to open, and Oliver stood, confusion turning to concern very quickly on his face. He grabbed her, pulling her inside, quickly turning on the light. The sudden brightness left white spots in her vision, but he put an arm around her, pressing her to his body. One hand came between them, and at first she thought he was pushing her away, but the arm around her back held firm. He applied pressure to her chest, just above her heart, until her breathing returned to normal and her body stopped shaking.

Even after her panic attack subsided, he held her to him. Felicity rested her head on his chest, allowing herself to enjoy the weight of his arms around her, as if he held her together.

"Better?" he muttered into her hair.

She nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that…"

"Don't be." he said firmly.

"Thank you, though." She tried to pull away to go back to her room, but his grip on her didn't falter. When she looked at him, he tilted his head at her in a way that suggested she wasn't going to fight him on this.

"Felicity, you have pulled bullets, syringes and God only knows what out of me." he said simply. "You've bandaged knife wounds and broken ribs, and you keep me safe whenever I put my Hood on, so please, just let _me _take of _you _this one time."

She said nothing, knowing full well that it wouldn't change his mind even if she did. Looking smug at his victory, he flicked the lights off, and lead her to his bed wordlessly. Once he was sure she was under the covers, he climbed in next to her. She wasn't sure if her heart had been pumping faster during her panic attack or in that moment. Feeling his weight next to her, she closed her eyes, and pretended to ignore the fingers, tracing soft lines up and down her arms until she fell back into sleep.


End file.
